


I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas.

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [63]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Christmas Feels, Christmas Story, Comfort, Explicit Language, Exploration, F/M, Feels, Humour, Loneliness, Love, Snow, coming together, in which Malcolm finds he's wanted, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 17:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: Malcolm is looking forward to a lonely Christmas. Bah Humbug.Sam has other ideas.....





	I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a wee one shot full of Christmas cheer and love and hugs. 
> 
> From me to you! Xxx
> 
> Ps it's unsaid in this but Malcolm is in love with Sam....he just hasn't done anything about it.....

I'M DREAMING OF A WHITE CHRISTMAS.

Friday afternoon. 

Malcolm yawned copiously. Working on at the office as late as he possibly could. 

Everyone else had long since gone home, or off to various revels, dinners or general get-togethers. 

He suspected there was an office do somewhere. But he hadn't been invited, and he didn't much care.  
These events tended to be fairly drunken affairs, people off their trollies, spouting meaningless shite. 

Lots of hugging and back slapping and festive bon homie, not to mention random snogging in quiet corners.

Sam knocked and peeped her head round his door around half three. 

"Malcolm....if there's nothing else, I'll be away....." She enquired quietly. 

He barely looked up from his computer screen. 

Just a dismissive wave of his hand accompanied by an answering grunt. Only looking up when it became apparent that she was still standing there. 

"Was there something?" He asked, with a fierceness he didn't really mean. 

She didn't respond immediately. Moving closer to his desk. 

"What are you working on that's so important?" Her voice carried a slight hint of annoyance. "Everything is up to date and signed off.....I saw to it myself." 

His eyes were piercing when he glanced up at her. She was scanning his screen, trying to glean information about what he was doing. 

His long finger clicked the mouse, the words vanished, the wallpaper popped up. 

A moving gif of 'Hanky the Christmas Poo' from South Park. 

"Just trying to make sure I'm ahead of myself, that's all." He said defensively. 

"Malcolm....it's Christmas Eve.....everyone has left, or is leaving.....why on earth are you still here?"

"Look love, I've got stuff to finish up, then I'll be away. You toddle off and have a great Christmas, okay!"

Pausing, she began ferreting in her bag. Producing a carefully wrapped parcel. 

"This is for you." Placing it down on the desk, rather than into his hands, she pushed it towards him. 

"I was going to give it to you at the do.....but if you're not going......" Her words trailed away, she seemed upset. 

He seemed suddenly flustered. 

"What the fuck did you do that for?" A crease furrowed his stormy brow. 

"Because I wanted to....it's only something small....." She began, stepping away from him. For a moment he thought she was going to start crying, but she seemed to collect herself. 

".....that's what Christmas is all about Malcolm......giving......"

His annoyance increased. 

"But I......" He ran both hands through his hair in frustration. 

"It doesn't matter if you haven't got anything for me Malcolm....I don't expect it.....that's not why I bought you something." 

The eyes that looked up at her were dark. This was more than anger, it was disappointment.... apparently at her words. 

Without further comment he reached down into the desk cupboard at the side of his right knee. From inside he withdrew a small package in gold wrapping, with a beautiful bow on the top. 

He handed it to her in silence. 

Sam's mouth dropped. Her astonishment only trumped by her contrition, she'd underestimated him, not for the first time, assumed something that wasn't the case, something which painted him in a less than favourable light.  
She was rendered speechless. 

"I.....I......I don't know what to say......" She stammered, turning the box over and over in her hands. 

"You don't have to say anything......"

It occurred to Sam that her boss clearly had this gift sitting in his desk.....but hadn't given it to her before now.  
Why?  
Was he waiting to see if she had a gift for him?  
No, she was certain that wasn't the case, it wouldn't matter one iota to him whether she bought him a present or not. 

Was he waiting for the right moment? If so, that moment almost passed him by. 

Or was he, perhaps.....not sure whether to give her the gift at all? 

This she thought the most likely scenario. 

Perhaps he grappled with the appropriateness of the present he'd chosen, or the ethics of giving your PA a personal gift at all.  
As she could think of nothing fitting to say at that moment, she smiled sweetly, thus completely disarming him.  
Melting the fuming look on his face.  
He chanced a small grin in return, just a hint. Blink and you would miss it. 

A frown of sudden question passed over her face and she regarded him searchingly. 

"What will you be doing?" She asked quietly. 

"Me? What....tonight? Or for Christmas?"

She hesitated. 

"Well, I meant for Christmas....but I guess tonight too.....some of the others are going to Simpson's in The Strand....."

"For Christmas.....well I'm fucking hectic.....as for tonight....to be honest it's not my cup of tea, I'm shattered. I'm looking forward to going home, putting my feet up in front of the telly with a glass of Scotland's finest." 

Sam wasn't sure which of these two statements she found the most unlikely, decided it was most definitely the first, and frowned again. 

"That's not very festive." She remarked. "A bit 'bah humbug' if you ask me!"

"I didn't ask you!" He snapped. "Now run along home Sam, and don't worry yourself about me. I'll be just fine!"

She was annoyed, he could tell. A slight flush to her cheek and her lips pursed tightly together. 

"Right." She stated, flatly. "I'll leave you to your miserable solitude then. Night."

"Night Sam....."

".....Happy Christmas love." 

She was half way to the door when he said that. 

It's tone stopped her in her tracks. Turning she strode back, determined, purposeful.  
Rounding behind his chair, bending over him, she kissed his cheek awkwardly. 

Giving him a subtle waft of her perfume, and her hair. The softness of her lips as they touched his skin. Causing him a sharp intake of breath. 

"Merry Christmas Malcolm." She whispered. 

oOo

Throwing his keys onto the hall stand, shucking off coat and scarf. Bulging grocery bags on the floor. 

Malcolm prised off his shoes gratefully and padded through to the kitchen in his socks. 

Running the gauntlet of late Christmas Eve Tesco's had been an experience he would much preferred not to have, but needs must. 

Running a hand through his steel grey hair distractedly. 

He was dog tired. 

Knackered in fact. 

He'd treat himself to a hot shower, put on a T shirt and joggers, and veg out. 

Unpacking his carefully chosen purchases, he flicked the switch on the kettle. 

The house was warm at least. 

Sadly devoid of decorations, apart from a few cards on a string. A distinct lack of festive cheer. 

He'd hadn't had time, or inclination. 

What was the point? 

No one would see it other than him, and he wasn't home enough to notice. 

Spending Christmas alone was not something Malcolm would necessarily choose. He could have gone to his sister.....

.....could have.....

She asked him. 

Were he travelling up to Scotland he should have left by now. Hours ago. Or even the day before.  
Now it was too late. 

Anyway. The weather was foul. Cold and windy. Damp. With sleet in the air which promised to turn to snow.  
A white Christmas was even on the cards. Now there was a turn up! The betting companies were going mad. 

No. He was better off by himself. 

He had a few groceries to last him for the next few days. 

The odd treat. 

Some nice cheeses. Tayside Smoked Salmon. 

A bottle of fine Malt. 

All he needed was some Chrimbo telly. 

Sorted. 

Punching in the speed dial on his phone, he rang Nancy.

"Hiya. It's me." 

"Malcolm! Why aren't you here? I thought you were still coming....." 

"Nah. Got tied up at work. I'm knackered sis. I'm just gonna veg it. Relax here. You don't want my miserable mug anyway."

"Oh Malc.....the kids were so looking forward to seeing you. Come up for Hogmanay then....yeah? Please Malcolm.....I want to see you."

"Alright. I promise. I'll get away early on Thursday. Spend a few days....."

"I'm gonna hold you to it Bro. You said 'promise'. So now you have to keep to it."

"I will. Merry Christmas Darl. Have a great time." 

"We will. Everyone here sends their love. See you Thursday. Happy Christmas sweetie." 

Malcolm clicked off with a resigned sigh. 

Carried his steaming mug and a hot mince pie through to the lounge. 

Plonked himself down and began to idly flick through the double issue Radio Times. 

"Now, let's see......" he spoke aloud to himself, through a mouthful of mincemeat, "......what televisual feasts are in store?"

He settled on a film. Nothing too taxing. 

_'Meet me in St Louis.'_

It was not long before he dozed off. 

Waking with a jerk, he realised the film was finished, the News was on, and he'd had nothing to eat yet.

"Fuck it."

Wasn't hungry anyway. Not really. 

Levering himself up, he went to the kitchen. 

Fixed himself some smoked salmon sandwiches with a wedge of lemon. A coffee. A small glass of the malt. 

Couple of satsumas. A few nuts. 

By the time he'd eaten, watched the carol service from Durham Cathedral, it was quite late.  
He wasn't sure why he watched that particular festive feast. 

Told himself it was because it was on. 

In truth, it brought back memories of a time when Christmas meant something. A long time ago. 

A time of innocence. Before his life was composed in the key of fuck. In his mind he could smell the candle wax, the scent of wood polish. Old hymn books and incense.  
If he was honest, he loved Carols. There was something so intrinsically hopeful about them.  
A message of peace, joy, goodwill. Something he felt had long since vanished from the world.  
HIS world at any rate. 

Watching the congregation singing lustily for the camera. The little choir boys and girls, so angelic.  
Archbishop _somebody_ preaching love and kindness.  
He believed in it all so blindly once, the baby in a manger, the three wise men, hark the fucking herald angels sing.......

Malcolm sighed. Reaching for the remote. 

Once the comforting sound of the TV was silenced, the house seemed oddly devoid of warmth.  
A cold and empty place. 

"Stupid fucking Christmas." He said aloud to himself. 

He knew darn well that on any other day of the year he wouldn't have given his solitude a single thought. But somehow, this holiday season, this time of year, it bought it all home.  
How horribly alone he was. 

Making himself a warm milk drink he shuffled off up to bed. 

"Ebeneezer fucking Scrooge." He murmured to himself as he finally turned out the light and settled down to a restless sleep. 

Too fucking tired.  
Mind whirring.  
_"Unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given...._

.... _God rest you merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay......_

..... _Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright......"_

For fucks sake. 

oOo

Waking with a start, he found he'd slept until after seven, which was most unusual.  
The sun was just colouring the sky in the East, yet to rise for another 45 minutes or so.  
To his surprise though, his bedroom seemed lighter than it should be. 

Swinging his legs out of bed he crossed to the window, peering out. 

Everywhere was white. 

"Fucking fuck me....." 

It was such a surprise. 

The world transformed overnight. Covered in a liberal dusting. From bleak and damp to fairyland. Undinted by the footsteps of even the earliest of risers this Christmas morning. 

Yawning. Scratching himself. Donning a towelling robe, he padded downstairs to make some tea. 

There were presents from his sister and the family in the lounge. She'd posted them earlier. She knew all along he wouldn't be joining them for Christmas Day.  
But it was Sam's parcel that drew him most. 

Sitting at his kitchen counter, with his steaming mug, he opened it. 

A beautiful deep maroon silk tie, with a really nice gold tie pin attached to it. Engraved with a Scottish thistle.  
It would go perfectly with his dark charcoal suit. 

So tasteful. 

Personal. 

He was still staring at it when he was aware that his phone was ringing. 

Immediately he recognised Sam's number. 

Picking up. 

"Merry Christmas Malcolm......"

"And to you Darl......." 

"I was hoping you were awake.....I've just opened your present....." 

It sounded as if she were sniffling. Little hitching breaths he could hear as she spoke. 

"Don't you like it......?"

"Daft bugger. I absolutely love it. And you shouldn't have.....it must have cost a bomb....." 

Malcolm gave a little shrug that she obviously couldn't see and a 'meh' sound in his throat. 

"I've just opened the tie too.....you're a bad wee girl and you should not waste your money on a cunt like me....but it's lovely. Thank you."

"Malcolm? Can I ask you something?"

He wondered what was coming, bracing himself accordingly. 

"What are you REALLY doing for Christmas.....today especially......please don't lie to me......"

The hesitation at the other end of the line told her all she needed to know. 

"......you're on your own aren't you? Malcolm, you're such a bloody lying sod....."

Still no reply. 

"Why don't you come over? No one should be by themselves at Christmas...."

"Sam....I don't wanna be a bother to anyone....I'm fine really. I've got some grub and a drop of the good stuff....I'm gonna relax and not think about work or anything....."

"Please Malcolm...... _.please_.....I want you to....."

Malcolm tried to think quickly how best to put her off. 

"It's not a good day for venturing out. The roads are gonna be bad, there's quite a bit of snow." 

"The roads are fine.....they've been gritted." 

"How do you know....you haven't set a foot out the door.....?"

"I DO know, because......." A pause. "......because I'm _outside_....."

"You're......you're......what?" 

Malcolm moved hurriedly to the window in disbelief. 

There she was.

Standing at the hedge which marked his front boundary. Hopping from one foot to the other, her phone held to her ear. 

Dressed in a thick brown duffel coat, boots, scarf, mittens and a Laplander hat with bobbles on strings dangling from it. 

"Fucking mental woman...." Malcolm breathed, trying to suppress a smile. 

There was no doubt about the quickness of the steps which took Malcolm to his front door, however.  
Flinging it open. 

The cold hit him with a blast. Keen and sharp and bitter. 

Up the path she came. 

Her face was flushed, cheeks and nose rosy red. Eyes looking at him expectantly. Eager. Shining. 

How the fuck did she manage to affect him like this? Fuck if he knew. 

"Get in here you daft cow....." He said, with mock sternness, but couldn't stifle his mirth. 

Peeling off her furry mittens he could see the bracelet he'd chosen for her, around her wrist. 

They kissed cordially on both cheeks. Awkward. Unsure. 

"Thank you for this." Waggling her arm under his nose. "It's perfect. How did you know to chose it?"

Malcolm shrugged nonchalantly. 

"Dunno." He admitted. "Just saw it and liked it." 

"It's _beautiful_.....and you're a dear."

As she spoke she followed him through the house. Noticing the distinct lack of Christmas cheer. 

She said nothing. Focussing instead on his face. 

"Malcolm.....I'm asking you. Won't you pop some bits together in a bag, and come with me....yeah?" 

Watching the doubtful frown cross his visage. 

"Oh, I dunno Sam.....it's a bit odd, isn't it? Your boss.....with all your family....."

"What family?" Puzzlement swept over her brows. 

"Your family coming over for Christmas......" 

Now Malcolm was floundering. This was what she'd told him hadn't she? He was annoyed with himself for not listening more attentively. 

"My family are coming _tomorrow_ , for Boxing Day.....I'm doing a buffet type thing.....and not till around three o clock....."

"......so it'd be just us......is that okay?" She added tentatively. 

"Oh." 

He shuffled with embarrassment. Looking down at his slippers. 

"Would that make you uncomfortable? We've known each other for so long......I know you're my boss....but I hope we're friends also?" 

Slowly his eyes raised, until they were looking into hers. 

Sam was shining. There was no other word for it. 

Aglow with something he couldn't put a name to. 

A warmth which seemed to seep from her and hit him right between the eyes. 

"Well, I guess I could.....are you quite sure about this......?"

Mittens back on, she clapped them together. 

"Get your stuff!"

oOo

Contrary to Sam's over inflated description of the health of the roads, they were appalling.  
True the main thoroughfares were gritted, but the side turnings were a bloody skating rink. 

People were emerging now, children on sledges, building snowmen, throwing snowballs, dogs careering about as if taken by madness.  
All having fun. 

The car crunched slowly to a halt outside Sam's house. 

It was a Georgian style place. With large squared windows. It belonged, actually, to her parents. She lived in it permanently, since they resided most of the year in Spain. Only returning home on rare occasions.  
As they walked up the path Malcolm could hear church bells peeling out.  
It really was like the Christmas morning from 'A Christmas Carol'. 

Bitterly cold, but bright and sunny. A keen wind, blowing the snow into flurries. 

Stamping her boots on the doormat, she opened the front door and ushered him inside. 

Malcolm felt as if he were stepping from the drab, real world into a dream, or perhaps a book or play. 

The house exuded warmth and brightness. Cosy, whilst being airy and light. 

Everywhere there were fairy lights. Hundreds of them. Twinkling almost magically. 

The bannister was festooned with bows and greenery. All along the hallway. 

"Go through." She said brightly, pulling off her hat.  
It left her hair electrified with static, standing comically away from her head like a brush. 

She divested him of his coat and took his bag from him almost without him being aware, as his eyes scanned. Taking everything in, in silence. 

Malcolm couldn't remember ever being inside her house.  
Many times he'd dropped her off after a late evening at the grindstone. Many times she'd been to his place as they worked together on averting some shitstorm or writing an urgent press release.

But he'd never been inside her private domain. 

Seeing this side of her world he felt humbled, honoured, that, as her boss, she should allow him into her inner sanctum. 

The front living room was quite beautiful. 

Tastefully decorated, pale grey walls. Heavy drapes and comfy sofas. 

A large, real tree stood, magnificent, in the bay window. Gleaming with tiny pale yellow lights winking on and off like stars.  
Hanging from it were old fashioned gingerbread men and striped candy canes, little nutcracker boys, drummers, painted soldiers and the like. As well as frosted baubles. All in reds and golds. 

The mantelpiece and hearth were swathed in a green garland.  
Tall pillar candles.  
Christmas cards on strings around the room. 

Under the tree were carefully and beautifully wrapped parcels. Glinting in the lights. 

There was a heady aroma of cinnamon and cloves, from some homemade pomanders in the centre of the coffee table. Large oranges stuck with cloves and adorned with ribbon in a gold bowl. 

The scent was intoxicating. 

"Make yourself at home...." Sam breezed in behind him. She looked radiantly happy, and Malcolm wasn't sure why.  
He just accepted it, and lowered himself onto the edge of the sofa. 

"Did you bring your slippers?"

"Er....yeah.....I think so....."

"How about you change into them then? Drink?" She was bustling, pointlessly. 

"Well, it's a bit early....."

"Coffee then? Come into the kitchen, we can chat there while I make it."

Malcolm Tucker was sure he'd wake up in a minute.  
He'd be at home, by himself, in his unadorned house, looking forward to nothing more than a bleak couple of days alone. 

He felt dazed somehow.  
This couldn't be happening.....could it? 

He followed her down the hallway and into the kitchen like a dog. 

This room had almost as many fairy lights as the rest of the house. A second, baby tree twinkled in the dining area to the side, and on a little table, there was a carved wooden crib set.  
Stable, ox, ass, manger, shepherds, the lot. 

Malcolm walked over to examine it more closely. The shadow of distant childhood memory washing over him. 

"This is _beautiful_. It's just like the one we used to have in church when I was a boy." He commented. 

"It was mine.....from when I was a child." She replied, coming to his side, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

She was close now, at his shoulder. Bending forwards suddenly he thought she was going to kiss him. Bracing himself for the contact which didn't come.  
Instead she reached into the wooden crib, taking out a carved figure, passing it to him to look at. 

"They are hand carved. My grandfather made them." Her voice was low, almost reverential. 

Malcolm blushed furiously. Turning the piece over in his long fingers. Tactile as it was. 

"They are made of cherry wood....he did a lot of carving and furniture and stuff, really clever." 

Her smile made his chest lurch in the strangest way. His legs felt weak. Replacing the Joseph figurine, he sat himself down heavily at the counter whilst she busied herself. 

"Thanks for this Sam......" He ventured. ".......this is..... _really_ nice....." 

She turned to look at him, and he thought he would actually burst. 

Her face betrayed her joy at having him there. 

"Malcolm, seriously.....I have enough food to feed the Mongol hoards, I was gonna be on my own today, so were you....that's a bloody crime.....it seems stupid not to share.....anyway, it'll be fun!" 

"I'm not sure I'm much fun......" He responded with a sorrowful expression. 

"You'll soon relax, find your feet....you are _not_ my boss now Malc......not today. It's Christmas. Today you are my friend......okay?"

As she watched, in horror, his eyes misted over. The muscles in his jaw trembling. Tears filled his lower lids. Collecting like a reservoir, brimming. Looking down, to avoid her gaze, the tears spilled. Dripping from the end of his large nose. 

She was at his side in a second. Her arms around his shoulders. Head resting on his back as he sat on the stool.  
Holding him close. 

"Oh _Malcolm_." She whispered. 

He couldn't reply. All he could do was lean back, into her. The smallest sound coming from his throat. 

"Sorry." He choked eventually. 

"Don't be." 

Turning his face towards her, her hands cupping his cheeks, she swiped at the tears with her thumbs. 

"Let it go Malc. All that fucking _stuff_.......no one can see, it's just me here now. You being here is the best Christmas present I could wish for."

His glance was one of incredulity. 

As she leaned forwards, capturing his mouth gently with her own. 

Fuck, but he never wanted that kiss to end. 

Hungry for it. 

Desperate. 

Starved of contact such as this. 

It was manna from heaven. 

When they finally broke apart, he was breathing raggedly. His eyes like liquid pools of lapis. Still swimming. Still avoiding her gaze bashfully.

"Merry Christmas Malcolm."

"Fucking fuck me....."

oOo

They ate companionably together. Seated on opposite sides of the small table. 

Shared a good bottle of red. 

Afterwards, full of turkey and pudding, he felt pleasantly mellow. Not wasted, but carbed out. 

They fell asleep after the Queen's speech on telly. Heads on each other's shoulders. 

Sam woke before he did. His face was relaxed in slumber. He was deeply asleep. She sat for some time, just watching him.  
A slight twitch now and again as he dreamed, it made her smile. 

As she reached forwards, caressing a cheek with her fingertips, he opened his eyes languidly. 

"Welcome back, sleepy head." She smiled, quickly withdrawing her hand. 

He didn't reply, but smiled back tentatively. 

"How about some fresh air?" She suggested. 

Malcolm nodded, levering himself up with a groan. 

"Sounds like a plan."

oOo

The street was busy. Lots of people with the same idea. 

Muffled up in scarf and boots, they walked side by side through the crisp snow. 

It was deeper now. Crunching beneath their feet as they walked. Slippery in places too, especially on the road where the cars had compacted it.  
Sam almost went down. Clutching Malcolm's sleeve for support. 

After that she clung to his arm. Hers threaded through his at the elbow. But he relished it. 

Malcolm's feet barely touched the ground. He felt as if he were floating. Suspended in a bubble of happiness. 

When they reached the safety of the park, they walked close, arm touching arm, holding hands. 

His in leather gloves, hers in her little furry mittens. 

By the time they returned to the house, Malcolm was frozen to the marrow. 

Pinched and pink. 

He shivered as she helped him off with his coat. His fingers too numb to undo the fastenings.

Standing in front of him, fiddling with his buttons. 

Laughing with him, as his teeth chattered. 

Their eyes meeting. 

His arms came around her body before she knew what was happening. His face close to hers, cold nose against her cheek as he sought her lips.  
Her hands were flat against his chest, trapped between their bodies.  
Up on tiptoes she went, a little whimper of delight as he held her there. 

"Is this okay?" He seemed worried. "I don't wanna.....well.....you know.....go where I'm not wanted...."

She reached forwards, freeing one hand and bringing it up behind his head. Her fingers twisted into his soft hair. Kissing him warmly once more.

"This is the best Christmas ever." She replied softly. "Now let's get you warm, my little ice cube!"

Hot toddies carried in on a tray, as he huddled close to the fire, which she'd lit before lunch and which now blazed brightly. 

Malcolm was still mulling over her words. 

Being referred to as _'my'_ anything was so out of left field it had taken him by surprise. It made him feel strange inside. It filled him with some inexpressible longing which he couldn't voice or act upon. 

Unaware of his inner turmoil, she joined him, sitting on the hearthrug. 

Clinking glasses. Sipping. 

He felt the warmth spread through him like molten lava. 

"Fuck, that's good." He smacked his lips before taking another hefty draught. 

 

Later they curled on the sofa together. 

Snuggled close. 

Full tummies. Tired but exhilarated from their walk. 

Malcolm's heart was soaring. 

It seemed that....in spite of every misgiving he'd ever had, that she, his faithful PA, his staunch friend..... she actually wanted him in this way.  
He wasn't sure he understood. In fact the thought....if he dwelt on it too much.....terrified him. 

But right now, at this moment in time, it was everything he could possibly wish for, and more. 

It was a very long time since he'd felt this good. 

Wanted. 

Loved. Although she hadn't said anything of the kind. 

It was wonderful. 

He had no idea where, if anywhere, it might lead, but whatever happened he'd go with it. Embrace it, and try not analyse it too much.

"Malcolm....." She murmured, her voice a rumble from somewhere down on his chest. "......you're thinking too much. Stop it." 

He raised his head, trying unsuccessfully to peer down at her. 

"How can you fucking tell?"

"Christ! I can almost hear your cogs turning.....cease and desist! It is what it is.....you're here.....I'm here.....I want you.....I think you want me......there's nothing more to be said!"

"Fuck me Sam....I've never said anything to......."

She sat up hurriedly, placing a finger over his lips. 

"Darling man, I know that! You're far too much of a gentleman. But it's there nonetheless. You know it. I know it. You think I don't notice the way you look at me sometimes? I'm a _woman_ Malcolm, I see these things. It's what made me decide to finally do something. Cos I knew you damn well wouldn't!" 

"Am I that transparent?" 

She smiled at him witheringly. 

"Er.....yeah!"

"And you? You know.......with me.....? Seriously?"

"Oh Malc. You have no idea!"

"I'm not sure I believe it. I mean....why would you? I'm your boss. I'm older than you. I'm a cunt.....what could you possibly want with me?"

Taking both his hands in her own, she made to pull him upright.

"Come upstairs with me, and I'll show you......." Her voice was silk. As sweet as caramel, soft as velvet.  
Melting his brain, turning it to mush.  
The words went straight to his crotch. 

Feeling himself stiffen at the mere thought. 

He followed her up the stairs, still holding tightly to her hand. Once there she went down on her knees as he stood helpless above her.  
As she unfastened his belt and fly she looked up at him. Forcing him to close his eyes. He couldn't bear it.  
The adoration he saw. 

It was almost too much. 

This wasn't right surely. Her kneeling at his feet. Preparing to......

"Oh fuck......" He moaned, as his legs almost gave way beneath him, her hand around him, then her tongue licking his exposed prick. 

"Stop Sam.....get up for fucks sake....." The words almost stuck in his craw as he tried valiantly to stop himself thrusting into her mouth. His whole body trembling with suppressed desire. 

She rose slowly to her feet, kissing up to his navel, sliding her hands beneath his shirt, jamming her knee between his thighs and moving herself up and down against him. 

"Make love to me Malcolm......I want you so much.... _have wanted you_....for so long..... _please_...." 

His kisses were restrained. Holding himself back, because he knew that if he surrendered entirely to what he was feeling right now she'd be on her back with him planted firmly inside her in a second. 

He couldn't allow himself to lose control like that. This was Sam. Beautiful, gentle Sam. 

She deserved better. 

So he took his time. 

Slow deliberate kisses. Each time she tried to tear at him, he held her hands away from his body, eased her down, gently but firmly. Taking control.  
Fondling her, touching her maddeningly, laying her back with great reverence onto the bed. Undressing her slowly, undoing buttons with trembling fingers, then attending to himself.  
Listening to her moans and entreaties.  
Everything about her was fire. Burning fierce and hot.  
Her small hands were on him, and he was weeping for her.  
Pushing himself against her. Nudging between her thighs. 

Every rational thought he had vanished then. His mind was no longer in the ascendancy. His attempts to counteract her heat with his coolness failing utterly.  
Everything was now focused on his penis. The need for fulfilment, for release. 

The actual moment of penetration was almost a spiritual experience.  
Like he was dying and living all at once. 

Moving slowly within her as she moaned and cried beneath him. Urging him on, harder, faster. 

But he kept his rhythm slow.

He _made_ himself last. He demanded it of himself. So she would derive maximum pleasure. He knew she was close, he could feel her losing her own rhythm, her breath shortening, head thrown back as she neared completion.  
When she peaked she clung to him desperately. As if he were a rock, she being dashed to pieces against him by the wild and relentless sea.  
Her fingernails digging in, raising herself to meet him, as his thrusts became stronger. 

"I love you Malcolm." She whispered at the final moment. 

It was enough. It tipped him over too. 

He roared with the sheer unadulterated joy of it. Coming, pulsing hard within her. 

"Oh fuck Sam.....I love you too....." 

oOo

Afterwards, they lay as one. Done for. Exhausted beyond measure. 

"Merry Christmas." She whispered. 

"Best fucking Christmas I've ever had. Gives a whole new meaning to Santa Claus is coming....." 

She exploded into a fit of giggles. 

Two people. Naked. In each other's arms. Sated. 

It just didn't get any better than this. 

oOo

Malcolm opened his eyes on the new day. 

He was deliciously warm. 

His large feet tucked under Sam's legs. 

She was snuggled close to him, his arms encircling her. 

What the fuck happened? Was it true? 

He could hardly take it in. 

Was this the beginning of something huge? He hardly dared imagine. 

She stirred beside him, winding her legs around his. 

Humming in a contended way. Like a kitten in its basket. Her hair had fallen forwards over her face, and she opened her eyes, blowing through her pursed lips to push it upwards. 

Malcolm laughed. 

She sat up. Shucking him off. Looking down at him as he lay there. 

"Ok....so I'm not good first thing in the morning....." She playfully thumped his arm. 

"You're fucking perfect." He replied, pulling her back down onto him. 

She seemed to nestle against him as if she were especially moulded to fit his body. Her breasts tight against him. Her hair tickling his face. 

"What time do your guests arrive?" He enquired lazily. 

"Around three. Why?" 

"I'll make sure I'm gone well before....."

Her face turned into a pout. 

"Why do you have to go?"

"Sam....you don't want me here, with your family coming over....." 

"Why not? You're my friend. I can introduce you as such. What's the big deal?" 

"I don't belong Sam. It's not me....and they're your family......" 

"Rubbish!"

oOo

So, God help him, he stayed. 

She put music on. 

Together they masterminded the preparations. 

Malcolm in an apron, laid out trestle tables. Wiped glasses. Threaded canapés onto cocktail sticks. Made himself useful. 

Whilst all the time they sang along to the playlist she'd chosen. 

They laughed a great deal. Both at their various attempts at singing, and the daft things one or both of them did. 

Like putting the 'pigs in blankets' in the oven and completely forgetting them.....Malcolm was the one alerted by the smell of burning. 

Smoke puffed out as she opened the oven door. Surveying the charred remains. 

Fits of giggles, as he shot the whole lot unceremoniously into the bin.

It wasn't helped by Malcolm making fucking brilliant margaritas......and they had to taste test one or three.....

Sam was becoming rapidly and delightfully sloshed. 

Drunk in charge of a buffet.....

The guests arrived. 

He was introduced. 

He was hugged. Welcomed......surrounded by their warmth....

.....and that was it. 

No pretence, no uncomfortable moments. 

Nothing. 

Just accepted. Malcolm was, frankly, astonished.

A couple of times he stole a kiss. 

He didn't care now, if anyone saw. 

They saw. 

They didn't care either. 

Sam was deliriously happy. That was all that mattered. 

Finally she had the man she'd loved for so long. 

Malcolm was in a state of perpetual wonder and disbelief. 

In a quiet moment in the kitchen, he collared her. 

"I'm going up to Scotland on Thursday, for a few days.....for Hogmanay.....come with me Sam.....please?" 

She gazed adoringly at him. 

Her arms around his neck. A hiccough. Eyes slightly unfocused. 

"As your friend?" She asked, coquettishly. 

"As my lady......my girlfriend....although that sounds wank for a man my age....." He replied earnestly. 

"I'd love to." Her kiss was deep and very long....Malcolm actually thought he might pass out. 

"Fuck me Sam.....you'd really do this....with me? I'm not being an arse am I? You'd tell me to fuck off if I was, yeah?" 

Ignoring the crowd who were now in the kitchen around them, Sam backed him against the wall, trapping him there. 

"You're _not_ an arse. You're beautiful. I love you.....and I'd love to come to Scotland.....if you'll have me...?"

"If I'll _have_ you? Jesus Sam.....my sister will have fucking apoplexy when I introduce you as.....as....."

"Your lover? Your woman?" 

"My _everything_. Fucking hell Sam. I fucking love you......so much, yeah? You've made this the best Christmas I've ever had.....how can I ever understand it......why you want me?" 

She kissed him again. 

"We've got all the time in the world for me to show you Malc......and now I really need to get the goujons out of the oven.....before they go the way of the sausages earlier....." 

He watched transfixed as she peeled herself away from him, flinging a tea towel over one shoulder. 

As she crossed the room, she turned back to look at him. Flushed and radiant, her eyes warm and dark.  
So dazzlingly beautiful, he thought his heart would burst. 

"Merry Christmas Malcolm." She mouthed, then laughed. 

He blew her a kiss. 

"And to you my Sam." He replied, his eyes twinkling. 

 

Fin.


End file.
